


Touch of a Guiding Mind

by CillianBraille, Half-Ounce Alchemist (MrEldritch)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, Edgeplay, Erotica, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Feminization, Hypnotism, M/M, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Porn, Smut, Trans Character, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CillianBraille/pseuds/CillianBraille, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEldritch/pseuds/Half-Ounce%20Alchemist
Summary: Derek was always fairly certain of who he was. He was pretty confident in his identity as a gay man, and was looking forward to his first year at Hammerlocke University. Of course, then Raymond Scott showed up, and everything changed.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	Touch of a Guiding Mind

The trouble all started in that first class of my first year at Hammerlocke University. The professor was the kind of lady who had probably just gotten out of a grade school gig and hadn’t quite gotten back into the swing of teaching college kids, and she had passed out cue cards for some team-building exercise. She wanted us to pair off, write down our names and exchange cards.

That was when I met him.

“Darak, is it?”

“It’s Derek,” I corrected, more confused than annoyed.

“You sure? This looks a lot like Darak.”

Scratch that, definitely annoyed. He had a voice like a Serperior’s slither, so confident that he was right and I was wrong.

“I know my own name, asshole.” I turned to face him, fully prepared to give him a piece of my mind. Then I saw him, and that plan fizzled out real fast.

There’s a special kind of rich kid you get in universities, when the school hasn’t had a uniform for twenty years but the upper crust still want to show off their prestige. He was wearing a pinstripe blazer over a pure white shirt and dress pants, like he was just begging to get something spilled on him. His black hair was the kind of carefully disheveled mess that probably took three hours and a can of hairspray to get right, and he was staring me down with the most intense ocean-blue eyes I had ever seen.

And he was holding up the card I’d handed him, and grinning like a movie star.

“It’s the handwriting,” he said, and I couldn’t tell whether he thought that was something I should be embarrassed about. “Your E’s look a lot like A’s.”

My eyes shot down to the card I’d been handed, already looking for something he’d screwed up that I could throw back in his face. What I got instead was a masterclass in calligraphy, every curve of every letter so perfect that you’d think it had been stamped on. It actually took me a few seconds to concentrate enough to make out the words, I kept getting so lost in the artistry of it all.

“Raymond Scott.” Not the richest name I’d ever heard, but you don’t wear a suit like that to Hammerlocke Uni unless you’re flexing hard. “Didn’t think we had to put last names on this.”

“Force of habit, I’m afraid.” Still smug, so smug that it barely sounded like an apology. “More used to signing waivers and yearbooks than little… icebreakers.” He said the word like he’d only ever heard it used as the name for a move.

I sighed and sat back, doing my best to just ignore him and pay attention to the professor. Well, okay, I was ignoring her too. Fine, I re-read the syllabus twice and then started fooling around on my phone, what do you want from me? We were sat in the back of the class anyway, it wasn’t as if she would notice.

For the first few weeks of school, I didn’t think about Raymond much. We only had the one class together, and aside from the occasional snide remark where he’d ask if I was following the material okay he didn’t draw much attention. It was weird, really, how little attention everyone paid to the asshole who was dressed ten times better than most of us could afford.

Don’t suppose he ever did much worth paying attention to, though. He mostly just sat and listened, arms folded across his chest like he was just waiting for everything to be over. Sometimes he’d reach down to his belt and fiddle with his Poké Balls, and I always found myself wondering what was waiting there, ready to spring out and plunge the whole class into chaos.

Then he’d turn to me, and he’d smile and look down like he hadn’t expected me to be looking. He’d tuck the Ball away like it was some big secret, and then he’d run a hand through his hair, and I’d find myself wondering how soft it would be to touch…

And I don’t know what he’d do after that, because whenever that happened I caught myself staring and spent the rest of class focused on keeping notes.

Look, I’m not used to sitting next to hot guys, okay? Especially hot guys who could buy and sell an entire city without blinking an eye. It’s not something anybody ever prepared me for.

And I definitely wasn’t prepared when one day, he leaned over and put a cue card face-down on my desk.

I stared at it. Then I stared at him. He was pretending to listen to the lecture.

“What is this, grade school?” I whispered. “Since when do we need to pass notes in class?”

“Since tomorrow is a quiz day, Darak. And some of us need to pay attention to the refresher because we were too busy staring at people the first time.”

“It’s Derek.” I ground my teeth and pulled the card towards me. What was he calling me out for? I only ever wasted the first five, maybe ten minutes of class anyways, and I hadn’t ever seen him so much as handle his textbook.

I turned the card over, and _of course_ it was handwritten. Of course the illustrious Raymond Scott was going to spend all of his calligraphy skills on writing some niggling little note instead of keeping up with class. Of course he was going to make it so fancy that I could barely read it, just so he’d be able to rub it in my face…

And that was about the point where I actually read the note.

 **There’s a training gym on campus. Does 4PM work for you?**  
I’ll be honest, I was scribbling the word ‘yes’ before I’d even really thought of what he meant. Was he challenging me to a duel? Did he just want some help putting his Pokémon through their paces? What the hell was his motive here?

But when I turned back to him to try and ask any of those questions, he was beaming like a solar flare. He was leaning in, about to whisper in my ear. What happened to looking like we were paying attention?

“I’m so glad. See you there.”

Suffice to say, I did not pay attention to the rest of the lecture.

Turns out, ‘training gym’ is a much more loose definition of a space than I thought.

I had expected, you know, a gym. Wood floor, pointlessly high ceilings, too much air conditioning, maybe some dodgeballs in the corner.

I did not expect to walk through a door into a castle courtyard, with big old scars in the earth from who knows what kind of giganticbattles. I could hear the wind howling above the courtyard, whistling through the towers of Hammerlocke, but I was still pretty cozy.

I mean, I was wearing a hoodie, but you get my point.

“Hello, Darak. Ready for the fight of your life?”

Raymond had dressed down for this. He’d shed the usual blazer, and had swapped out his pants for faded cut-off jeans. If he had just bothered to change out of that perfectly pressed white shirt, maybe he could have passed for middle-class.

“It’s Derek,” I muttered. “You ready to do this?”

He took a few steps past me and crossed his arms, looking just as bored as he did in class. “Are you? You hardly look prepared for this.”

I gave him my best cocky grin, and pulled out my trusty old Great Ball. “Hey, it’s not me who has to look prepared.” I pressed the button, and grinned as the red light spilled out. “You ready to kick some ass, Dudley?”

I’ve had Dudley for about five years, and you can’t tell me he isn’t the biggest badass of a Toxicroak you’ve ever seen. From the second I caught him, I was training him to fight at the absolute top of his game. Any move he didn’t learn from me, he learned from all the best martial-arts movies I could rent. Every inch of that frog was covered in muscle, and his claws were so sharp they could probably cut shadows in half.

Raymond certainly looked impressed, but he also looked confused. Weirdest of all, his hands didn’t go anywhere near his belt. “I think you may have misunderstood my intentions here, Darak.”

“It’s Derek,” I insisted, and by this point I was getting really frustrated. “What’s there to misunderstand? This is a training gym, after all!”

“Training is not a practice exclusive to Pokémon, _darling_.” That last word practically oozed with pride, as if he’d finally realized that he could use nicknames instead of just constantly getting my name wrong. “Even humans have a use for training.”

“What do you m--” I stopped mid-sentence as Raymond started unbuttoning his shirt.

I had never realized that, under the suit, Raymond was pretty stacked. He had the muscles, no, the _physique_ of an actual martial artist, tucked away under those unassuming dress clothes. Button by button, his abs and pecs were bared to the wind, and I found myself wondering if the wind was going to make his nipples perk up.

“Now do you see what I mean?” He dropped into some kind of fighting stance, his shirt flapping open and showing off just about everything. Everything above his waist, anyway. His pants were tight, but not that tight.

Why was I paying such close attention?

“I, uh, I guess I do.” I tried to adjust myself to a similar stance, suddenly wondering if the hoodie was too heavy for what we were about to do. “I mean, I haven’t exactly done this before, so, think you could go easy on me?”

“I am very good at staying in control, darling.” His eyes focused on Dudley then, like he couldn’t tell why he was still out of his ball. “So, is he going to watch?”

“Oh, right.” I leaned forward and tapped Dudley on the shoulder. “Hey Duds, on the count of three, just take a big ol’ hop to the right, okay? Me and Raymond are going to fight.”

Dudley turned to me and gave a low, deep croak. He looked confused, or maybe worried?

“It’s fine, dude. It’s just like pro wrestling.”

That seemed to satisfy the big guy, so he crouched down and started to croak softly to himself.

“One.” I shook my wrists a little, trying to jazz myself up.

“Two.” Yeah, the hoodie was definitely a mistake. And with the way Raymond was moving, there was no way he wasn’t about to kick my ass.

“Three.”

And then there was no more time for thinking, because Dudley was backflipping over me and Raymond was in front of me and then he was much more in front of me and I panicked and threw a punch.

Before I could even get out a “sorry”, he had ducked under the punch and popped up an inch away from my nose. He was grinning wider than I’d ever seen him grin, and sweat was already starting to bead on his forehead. And his cheeks. And his chin. And his chest.

My eyes had traveled all the way down to his belt before I realized he was saying something.

“Huh?”

“I said, that was actually a decent punch.” Oh god, he was staring at my lips. Why was he still so close? “If you had been just a little bit faster, I might have needed to block it.” Then his eyes moved up to stare into mine. I knew he hadn’t, couldn’t, take a step closer, but why did it feel like he had? “Where did you learn to throw a punch like that?”

“Well, uh, you know, Dudley’s a fighting-poison type, but our training’s mostly focused on the fighting side since I always tended to prefer faces to heels, from wrestling, I watch a lot of wrestling, well I used to as a kid but I don’t so much anymore, well I leave it on in the background for Dudley and Meera to watch and they pick up a lot of their moves from there and then I’m always training them so I pick up a lot of the moves that way--”

And then there was a finger on my lips, and I was more quiet than I’d ever been in my life.

“Who’s Meera?”

“Oh, she’s my Mienfoo.” I ended up taking a step back, my hand going back to my hoodie to root around for my Premier Ball. “Only got her a few months ago, so she’s having to work pretty hard to catch up.” I pulled out the ball, and was just about to press the release button when Raymond’s hand closed around my wrist.

“Now that’s a very interesting Ball indeed. May I?” He was reaching his left hand towards it, and I just nodded and did my best to hold it out. He didn’t take his right hand off my wrist, even once he had the ball.

“So shiny, so sleek.” He kept turning it over and over in his hand, back and forth, back and forth, spinning and turning and practically dancing. “Look at this finish, you can tell that’s an absolute expert at work. Just look at the shine, the gleam of the chrome.” He held it up a little closer to my face, so it caught the light of the sun better. “It just catches the ambers and the reds of a sunset so perfectly, don’t you think? Almost as snugly as it could catch a Pokemon.”

“I guess so...” I just kept staring. The light flowed and danced across the ball’s surface, so that it almost looked like he was holding the sun in his hand. The sun, spinning under his soft hands, strong hands, gripping me, holding me.

“I heard a very interesting fact about Pokemon the other day.” His thumb was rubbing against my wrist, making slow circles. It felt like a long, slow drumbeat when compared to the dance of the sun in his hands. “Did you know, Poke Balls only work because Pokemon let them work? If a Pokemon doesn’t want to be caught, the ball will never work. They’re only ever caught because they _want_ to be.”

“Wow… cool...” My voice sounded really far away. Really soft, too. Did my voice always sound that soft?

“It’s a lot like hypnotism, honestly. Movies always act like hypnotism is this unstoppable force that just takes your brain over with no resistance, but that’s not how it works at all.”

“It’s not?” I leaned forward a little. I’d never heard Raymond talk for so long, so softly, so close to me. He had such a nice voice. I could probably listen to him talk about anything, and I wouldn’t even have to take notes.

“Oh, no. Hypnotism is one of those things that the subject has to believe is going to happen. If you don’t believe in hypnotism, or you don’t want to be hypnotized, there’s nothing that somebody like me can ever do to put you under. You have to let it happen, darling.”

“I have to… let it happen...”

There was a sudden hot breath against my ear. When had he moved?

“I’m very proud of you, darling. You’re a very attentive student. You know that, don’t you? You’re very good at paying attention.”

I nodded. I had always been a good student, much better than Raymond.

“You always listen to what other people are telling you, and you’re just great at admitting when you’ve learned something new.” Thumb pressing harder against my wrist, circling slower, slower, taking so long to make a circle. Sun’s dancing, glowing, so deep, so pretty.

“I was wondering, darling, where did you get that Premier Ball? Those aren’t balls you can just find on any store shelf.”

I blinked. Felt so soft, now I was having to think again. I thought the test was supposed to be tomorrow? “Parents got it for me.”

“That really doesn’t answer my question, darling.” Breathing against my neck, lifting my wrist, when did I get so hard?

“My dad, he works for SilphCo. He told them it was a special occasion, and he’s a really good employee, so they let him design and put it together himself.”

“And what was the occasion?” So close to my ear, felt deafening, how was I supposed to think with all this noise?

“First year of uni. They wanted to celebrate, show their support. Big brother went to Johto and caught the Mienfoo for me, so I could spend the whole train ride training with her instead of being late from scrounging around in the grass.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound quite right.” He was far away, just standing at my side. Why was he far away?

“Did I say something wrong?” I tried to lean against him, but he must have taken even more of a step back than I thought. All I could feel was his thumb against my wrist, all I could see was the sun in his hand.

“I just think you might be misremembering, is all.” His thumb tapped against my wrist one, two, three times. Was that important? Was something supposed to happen?  
“I don’t understand.”

“Premier Balls are very special, darling. They don’t just approve those for anyone heading off to college for the first time, or you’d see them _everywhere_.” The sun was getting closer, than farther away, then closer, thumb spinning against my wrist, fast then slow, fast then slow. It was getting so hard to keep my eyes open.

“You know, the last time I heard of someone getting a Premier Ball specially made just for them, and with a lovely Pokemon freshly caught tucked away inside, it was for something much more special than their first year at college. As a matter of fact, it was to celebrate the fact that she had come out as a girl.” He tapped a finger against the sun, the spinning, dancing, shiny sun. “I think that’s what happened to you, isn’t it?”

“N-no...”

“I mean, you even got given the same sort of gift.” Wrist getting lifted higher, almost like he wanted me to touch the sun. “She got a Ponyta, one of the pretty fluffy ones from right here in Galar. And she was a Sinnoh kid, so that was a pretty big deal.”

“But...”

“I mean, Mienfoo are pretty fluffy, yeah? Way softer than you’d expect a fighting Pokemon to be. And you said she was a girl, right?”

“Right...” Why did he have to talk so fast? It was getting hard to keep track of everything.

“I mean, if I wanted to get somebody a Pokemon to celebrate their coming out, I’d want to get one that fit their new self. It only makes sense, right?”

“I guess so.” It made a lot of sense, actually. It would probably have been really rude to get a Nidoking or something.

“And honestly, darling, it’s written all over you. I mean, think about your friend Dudley. He’s fighting-poison, and you just ignore half of that because it doesn’t fit with who you are. Doesn’t that sound familiar, darling? Like you’re ignoring part of who you are because it just doesn’t fit?”

“I mean, kind of.” Why did so much of this make sense? Why was I surprised that it was making sense? Had I not been paying attention?

“You look a little overwhelmed, darling.” Somehow even softer now, like honey in hot tea. My whole body shivered, flooded with warmth.

“No, I’m… fine...” My wrist getting held so high, even above my head. How did it get up there?

“The sun’s going to set soon, darling. You can see the colors getting deeper, getting darker. Soon that big old light is going to drop behind the wall and you won’t be able to see it.”

“I know how… the sun works...” Colors getting so dark, going away, but dancing even faster.

“Yes, but do you know what’s going to happen when the sun goes down?”

“It’ll… be nighttime?”

A sigh, a chuckle, so warm, so soft, so safe. “Yes, but when the sun sets, I’m going to let go of your wrist. And then you’re going to drop.”

“Drop my wrist?”

“Drop your mind.” Still the same voice, still the same tone, nothing to be afraid of, everything made sense. “When you drop, you’re going to fall into a deep, deep trance. You’ll be so very attentive, more ready to learn than you’ve ever been before. And everything you learn down there is going to be true.”

“Okay...” That didn’t sound so bad. I always liked learning, and there was nothing more annoying than a source that turned out to be hot garbage. It would be refreshing to know for certain that everything was true.

“It’s not going to hurt. It’s not going to be scary. It’s going to be soft, and comfortable, and safe. And I’ll be right there with you the whole time.” Colors getting so dark now, so slow now. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“I trust you.” He’d been so kind, so thoughtful, hadn’t even punched me back even though he’d made it sound like it was going to be a real fight.

“Good girl.” Wait, was that ri-- “Drop.”

Thumb leaving my wrist, hand leaving my wrist, wrist falling, arm falling, mind falling, thoughts falling falling _fallen_.

Orgasm.

Everything came rushing back, crashing over me as I moaned and came. I was gasping for breath, my hips thrusting up against something that wasn’t there. The only thing that was there was my hands, still jerking myself off even as the orgasm faded, as the cum stopped spurting, as the images stopped pulsing in my head.

“Fuck.” I giggled to myself, staring at my hands as they finally slowed down. I had been gripping myself like a vice, but now my cock could breathe, could relax. But I didn’t let go. I kept my hands right where they were, cum oozing over and between them. It felt so warm. It looked so delicious.

I was lifting my hand up to my face, staring at the mess I had made. It was so thick, so musty, smelled awful, tasted salty, licking my palm, sucking my fingers, thrusting against my other hand, already at half-mast.

“Holy shit.” I blinked a few times, just to make sure I was still seeing straight. I lifted my hand and stared at it, licked so clean it would have sparkled if there was any sunlight coming in from outside.

Sunlight… there had been something about sunlight, right?

Raymond Scott. Raymond Scott had stood in the sunlight, and said something to me.

It was coming back now, in bits and pieces. He had invited me to the training gym, and he’d wanted to spar one on one, just as humans. His shirt had come loose in the fight, and he pinned me to the ground and straddled me. And then I had stared at the sunlight reflecting against his sweat-stained chest, and…

Had I kissed him? It felt like I might have kissed him. I had definitely thought about it, definitely wanted it. More than anything.

My eyes moved back to my cock. Okay, almost anything.

That was when I thought to look around and take stock of where I was. I was in my dorm room. Right. After he’d pinned me, I’d gotten nervous and he’d said the fight was over and I’d come back to my room to study for the test in the morning. And then I hadn’t studied, at all. I’d been busy.

I looked at the door. It was closed, firmly locked. A very strong part of me was suddenly wishing that it wasn’t. That someone could peer in, could see me covered in my own cum, naked and legs spread and already hard again, and come in and help me.

Or help themselves.

My hands had started moving again, but this time only one of them settled on my cock. The other went further, lower, started circling my hole. The feeling was shocking and weird, and then I kept going anyway. Up to the knuckle already, moaning and bucking my hips against air.

“Ray...” I needed him. My hand left my cock, reaching to try and find my phone. Did I even have his number? Who cares, I could probably find him on social media, that idiot was probably still awake trying to study for the test.

I couldn’t find my phone, but my hand did hit the button to turn on my lamp. That’s when I noticed the paper. That’s when I remembered the paper.

The fight had filled me with a lot of thoughts, but one of them had been so confusing, so stubborn, that I just had to write it down. Scribbled on that page was a simple phrase, a burning question that was now burning me up so bad I couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten distracted from it.

Am I a boy or a girl?

I’d written the words Boy and Girl again under that, each with a checkmark box. My hand grabbed the page, pulled it closer, and then I saw something that made my entire hole clench.  
There was a penciled checkmark in the box next to Girl.

I could see a pen from where I was lying.

I added a second finger to my hole.

The test was awkward. That’s probably a good word to describe it.

To start with, I had come in my tightest t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were better designed for hundred-yard dashes than air-conditioned classrooms. On top of that, we had to have at least one space between us and any other classmate, just to make sure none of us cheated. On any other day, that wouldn’t have been a problem. But it meant there would be an empty space between me and Raymond.

I sat down for the test, ready to just grin and bear the whole problem. I would be able to say something at the end of class, try to get him somewhere, anywhere that I could explain all the feelings I was having.

Part of me wished I had had time to put on makeup. Part of me wished I had makeup. And a much, much bigger part of me was wishing that I wouldn’t need makeup to make myself obvious.

“Hello, darling.”

I stiffened in every possible sense of the word.

“Sorry I’m late, I barely got a wink of sleep last night.”

“You too?” I was hoarse, my throat dry as a desert from just two syllables. I turned to face him, and every inch of stiffness threatened to fall apart into a swoon.

Raymond wasn’t even trying to hide his boredom with the class now. He had come in a sheer silk bathrobe, eggshell-white with scarlet accents. It was frustratingly done up, as though he were taunting me with how indecently he could dress while still leaving everything to the imagination. The only other thing he had brought was a fountain pen, engraved with his own profoundly recognizable signature.

“The anticipation was killing me.” He made it sound like a confession, like there was something else he had been looking forward to. Was it me? I blushed at the thought.

“I hope you studied.” I did my best to sound confident as the professor made the rounds, passing out test papers. Raymond just smiled, and didn’t break eye contact even when the professor tutted at his choice of outfit.

“I find the most important step in preparation for a test of any kind is to study yourself.” He held the pen to his lips and set his teeth against the soft end of it. I stared, wondering how those teeth would feel against my skin. “A man who understands himself is ready for anything.”

“Or woman.” The words had gotten out before I could stop them from bubbling up.

Raymond raised an eyebrow at me. He was about to ask me a question. He was about to ask me the same question that had brought me to orgasm. Every cell in my body felt ready for a repeat performance.

“Alright everyone, quiet down, and let’s start the test!”

Silence. Choking, stifling silence. Scratch of pencils, slide of pens, flutter of paper. Barely able to look at the paper.

I looked at the seat between us, a longing sigh halfway up my throat when I saw it. Raymond had left his hand outstretched on the chair, as though reaching out to me.

I turned back to my test as though the hand had burned me. I needed to finish my test as soon as possible to free up my hand, to hold his hand.

Questions blurred by. I had never in my life been so torn between answering right and answering fast, but I did my best to strike a balance. There wasn’t any an essay question, and soon I had knocked out everything except the multiple choice. And no matter how much thought they might take, multiple choice questions could be answered with my left hand.

With that in mind, I let my right hand move to the seat between us. Breathing got harder and harder with every little twitch to my right, seeking out his grip but too afraid to look away from my test. It felt like I had been inching right for an hour, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his hand had moved. Had he needed to concentrate on the test?

Just as I was about to fall down a pit of loneliness and desperation, my fingers brushed against a knuckle. I hissed out a breath as I felt him twitch under my touch, then felt his hand rise. His grip closed around my wrist, and the pencil slipped from my grip.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb circling against my wrist in a motion that felt achingly familiar.

“I need it.” It was a whine, just short of a moan, and I swear I could see a few heads in front of us starting to turn. His thumb pressed down, and my tongue froze.

“What do you need, darling?” It was a voice like warm butter, oozing over crackling toast. Thinking of that just made me imagine other things he could ooze over, and my hand slipped. I had now definitely gotten that question wrong on the test.

“You.” It was barely a word, just a hungry exhale and a brief moment of trying to wrap my hand around his. His thumb pressed harder, and my body tried to melt into my chair.

“And how do you want me, darling?” So soft, so close, he had to have been leaning across the chair, it must have been something that would get us in trouble, why didn’t I care?

“In me.” The words were coming so easily, as if on instinct. My legs were spreading, I could feel my hole twitching, and my breathing was getting faster. “Please.”

“We’re in a classroom, darling.” Sounded so proud, so smug. It felt so good to finally hear that after a sleepless night of replaying every word I’d ever heard him say. “We’re taking a test.”

“I don’t care.” I circled the last answer, and pushed the test away with my free hand. “Do whatever you want, I can’t stand it another second.”

He started walking his fingers up my arm. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“I want you to fuck me.” I definitely said it loud enough for someone to hear it that time. “I want you to throw me on the bed and do whatever you want.”

“Bed?”

“Or floor, floor works too.” I rocked back in my seat, just hard enough that it almost felt like I’d been thrown down. I hadn’t thought my legs could spread wider, but they did.

“There’s something you want to tell me, isn’t there?” He let go of my arm. I kept staring straight ahead, willing the professor not to look our way. And then I felt his hand settling against my thigh, skin against skin in a way I’d never been touched before. “Something very important.”

“Yes.” Did he know? Was I carrying myself so differently that he could notice? Or did he think it was something else? He was touching me, his hand so close. If he wanted to, he could have grabbed my cock right then and there. He knew it, I knew it, and we both wanted it to happen so badly.

“Are any of your other classes today important?”

That was when I finally turned to him, stars in my eyes and honey in my voice. “The only place I have to be today is wherever you decide to take me.”

He smiled. “You utter romantic.” Then he turned back to his test, as though his hand weren’t still tightening against my inner thigh. “We’ll use your room, how does that sound?”

“It sounds amazing.” Focusing on my test or trying to correct it would have been a lost cause, so I just tried to look busy. Somewhere along the way, I squeezed my legs together to see how Raymond would react, and he responded by yanking on my leg. He was keeping me spread, just in case anyone was looking.

I wanted them to look. I wanted them to see how easily he was taking charge of me. I wanted them to ask why, just so I could tell them that I had no idea what was happening.

I wanted them to ask me if that worried me, just so I could see how they’d react when I admitted it didn’t. Just so I could spread my legs and thrust my hips and show them how hard it was making me, how I barely had time to feel confused with how horny I was.

My cock was starting to twitch, my hips were trying to thrust. I was getting close, just from being touched like that.

“I’m going to start leaking,” I whispered, my voice tingling with pride.

“I don’t think you are.” One, two, three taps against my thigh. Time to pay attention, time to accept correction. “I think you’re going to sit there very patiently, not even getting close to cumming, until we’re safely inside your room. That sounds much better, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” It didn’t. It really didn’t. I wanted to cum right there, loud and hard enough that everyone realized what was going on. I wanted to show off.

But instead I took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, my every thought trying to push the very idea of orgasm as far from my brain as possible. This was what Raymond wanted. I had to give Raymond what he wanted.

It was another fifteen minutes before we were allowed to leave. When the prof announced it, I tried to surge to my feet, but Raymond was pressing down on my thigh.

“Wait a minute, then follow me outside. We don’t want to be too obvious.” He stood with a swish of his beautiful bathrobe, and I counted the seconds until I was allowed to get up.

Someone was probably looking at me. Maybe they were checking me for stains, or hickeys. Maybe they were wondering how exclusive this relationship was.

The specifics didn’t matter. All that mattered was that someone was looking at me, thinking about how much of a shameless unfiltered slut I was.

When it was finally time to get up and follow, I practically skipped out of class.

We couldn’t have been more obvious if we tried. Raymond had never been inside this dorm in his life, and he was being dragged along in a silk bathrobe by a giggling girl in the tightest clothes she could find. Anyone who so much as heard us running past their doors would know what was up, and that just made my every frantic step that much more electric.

Shoving my door open, stumbling inside, turning to face him, turning to hold him, to feel him, to kiss him.

“There was something you wanted to tell me?” he prompted, somewhere between the tenth and fifteenth kiss.

“Oh, right.” I drew back, Butterfrees flapping in my stomach. “I, um, I realized a lot of things about myself last night, after we sparred.” He didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. “I don’t think I’ve been honest with myself about who I am.” I took a step back, part of me afraid of what might happen. “Raymond, I’m a girl.”

Part of me had been worried about him throwing a punch, or drawing back in disgust, or just leaving. Instead, he took a step forward and leaned in to touch his nose to mine.

“Have you picked out a name yet, darling?”

I giggled and tried to keep my legs steady. “Uh, not really. Was just so focused on how good it felt that I haven’t really tried to work any of that stuff out.”

“Hmmmm.” He reached out and stroked my chin, staring deep into my eyes. “How about… Darla?”

My entire body crackled and shivered at the name, and I leaned forward into the touch. “It sounds beautiful.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He kissed me, and this time I felt his tongue poking and prodding at me. I loosened my jaw, and felt him invade his way in. It reminded me of sucking my own fingers, which reminded me of eating cum, which made me very weak at the knees.

I felt Raymond’s hands tightening against my arms, and realized that I had been about to fall. How had I not noticed that? Then his tongue twitched and pulled out of me, and I didn’t have that question anymore.

“Little unsteady on your feet, Darla?” He was teasing me, taunting me, and I loved it.

“I’m just not used to this.” To any of it. I had never fallen so hard for someone, and I hadn’t even been a girl for twenty-four hours yet.  
“Don’t worry, I can help you.” His hands closed around my wrists, and I let out a helpless moan as his thumbs started circling. “We’ll skip class tomorrow, head into town and get you a lovely new wardrobe. You’ll be the talk of the campus. Won’t that be nice?”

“Yes..” Everything felt so soft and far away all of a sudden, and I noticed that the fluorescent light of my room reflected against Raymond’s bathrobe to produce a mesmerizing dance of colors.

“I can’t wait to show you off. Everyone’s going to be so jealous.” He said it like I was a thing to be owned, like I was some prize he had won. It made me so hard.

“Please...” I moaned, barely even knowing what I was begging for.

“Please what, Darla?” Hearing my name made my hips thrust, stumbling me forward against him. My face was buried in silk, and I could barely even convince myself to breathe.

“You said I could cum. You said once we got here, I’d be allowed to cum.” If that were true, why wasn’t I cumming? Why was I just standing here, leaning against him for support, my cock so stiff it felt like it would shatter?

“No, I said you could leak.” Smug as an Inteleon, he ground his thumbs hard against my wrists, and I gasped as I felt something start to build between my hips.

“Please, Raymond, I need this. I need _you_.”

“Fall to your knees.”

My legs gave out, and I had just enough time to be afraid of how fast I was falling before I came to a halt. Both my hands were still outstretched above me, both still locked in my master’s grip.

“Master?” It wasn’t until I heard Raymond chuckling that I realized I had asked that out loud.

“Well, if you want me to, I can certainly be your master.” He was grinning down at me, his entire body shining in golden amber. “Do you want me to be your master, Darla? Do you want me to take control in every way I can?”

Deep breaths. Big decision. Yes, he was amazing, and yes every single part of me wanted him inside me, but did I want to give him complete control? Did I really want to be the beloved pet of some trust-fund kid who was already going to give me a complete wardrobe? Did I want to spend another second unable to cum just because he didn’t want me to?

His thumbs were circling. For all my humming and hahing, I hadn’t so much as pulled against his grip since he grabbed me. And now I was on my knees, precum soaking through my shorts, asking myself why I had called him master?

“Yes.” It felt like there were fireworks going off in my heart as I looked up at him. “Please, be my master.”

He took a single step forward, his bathrobe brushing against my face. “Very good, Darla. Please, unveil your reward.”

“Yes, master.” I sat up and reached forward, my teeth locking around the robe’s tie and pulling back. The slide of silk against silk was music to my ears as my master’s body was finally bared to me.

“Oh sweet Arceus, _yes_.” Master was hard. Master was hard for me. Master’s cock was dripping. Master was taking a step forward. The next drop of pre from my master was going to land on me. I opened my mouth and tipped my head back, ready for everything to begin.

Then he let go of my wrists. A world away from my own body, I felt my arms fall to my sides.

“Drop.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look interesting? The author may be reached for private inquiry at goblins-choose-to-live.tumblr.com!


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